


Firsts - Isabela/Merrill

by fizzysplosion



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzysplosion/pseuds/fizzysplosion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nuggling is the Thedas equivalent of motorboating. Merrill isn't sure what it means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firsts - Isabela/Merrill

**Firsts**

Isabela surveyed Merrill through the amber mist of the Hanged Man's finest, which wasn't really comparable to the Blooming Rose's finest but it got you good and drunk and your pee didn't burn afterwards. Much. The room was beginning to fill as the evening wore on, adding drunken solicitations and the toppling of chairs to the ambient noise. Merrill sipped her water across the table, eyes wide and lucent over her glass. She coloured at a particularly lurid suggestion yelled at one of the barmaids. Her eyes crinkled with amusement as the barmaid suggested he do something similar with a bar stool. Merrill and Isabela were attracting admiring glances from all corners but no one was drunk enough yet to ignore the two huge daggers crossed over Isabela's back. Merrill was, of course, completely oblivious.

"It's very brown in here," Merrill said, setting her glass down. "Not that brown is bad! It's a very nice brown, as far as brown goes."

Isabela chuckled. "What's it like?"

"What's what like?"

"Dangerous levels of sobriety. Having inhibitions all the time."

"Oh it's not so bad. Keeper Marethari was fairly strict about alcohol. We needed to be alert for slavers, vartarrells, rampaging halla and the like. She was always keeping an eye on me so I never really tried-"

"Never? You've never had a drink?"

"No. Is that wrong? Is that why the barkeep looks at me oddly when I ask for water?"

"Not wrong. Surprising. You've never even tried it? Not even a sip?"

"No. No one would have shared a sip with me anyway even if the Keeper wasn't looking."

"No one until now," Isabela waved a hand at the barmaid and she promptly appeared with another mug. Isabela gave her a coin and a wink for her trouble and she scuttled away to the next, looking harried. "Drink up."

"That's not technically sharing."

"More for you, more for me, everybody wins."

Merrill smiled and took a sniff of the mug's contents. "Whew. That's strong."

"Stronger than water. Go on. Take your first drink and laugh at all those silly sober elfin boys who wouldn't share with you."

Merrill lifted the mug to her lips and savoured it as if it were something form a fine Orlesian sommelier and choked as it hit the back of her throat. Isabela caught the mug so it didn't spill. It was cheap enough to replace but there was always a danger of it burning a hole through the table. Merrill coughed hard for a few minutes with her hands braced on her knees. When she could finally breathe, she looked pleadingly at Isabela through watering eyes. Isabela pushed the mug back toward her.

"Ah," Isabela said. "I should have warned you. There's a technique to drinking the Hanged Man's stout. You need to tip it back in one go." Isabela paused to demonstrate with her own mug. "The last thing you want to do is taste it."

Merrill wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. "It's like swallowing fire."

"That's all part of the fun. Your throat should be tender like the morning after a threesome or moresome."

Merrill narrowed her eyes at the mug. She took a deep breath, winced and upended it into her mouth with a huge gulp.

Isabela laughed. "We'll make a sailor of you yet. How do you feel?"

"Is upside-down a feeling?" Merrill attempted to put the empty mug down on the table. It fell from her fingers and rolled underneath, where Isabela stopped it with her foot. Merrill swayed very gently and caught herself on the edge. Merrill was very dainty. Maybe a whole pint had been a bit much. Isabela swapped sides to offer her some much-needed support. Merrill sighed against her.

"Easy," Isabela said.

"Now I feel sleepy," Merrill said. "Is it normal to feel sleepy?"

"After your first pint of stout, anything but horizontal is an achievement."

"Good. I'm glad I'm mostly vertical then."

"Diagonal."

Merrill slumped forward. She weighed almost nothing. Close to her like this, Isabela could smell her faint hyacinth and fresh leaves scent. Merrill always smelled of nature's good bits. Her face sank into Isabela's cleavage. Soft, even breaths puffed against Isabela's bare skin. Her lips brushed over the plumpest part as she murmured something totally incomprehensible. Just as Isabela was about to remark that she was more brazen with a little bit of drink in her system, a snore rose up. Isabela held her there while she finished her pint and the last few dregs of Merrill's. Then she heaved her over her shoulder to carry her back home.

*****

"Cleaning," Merrill said, wiping a rag over the chair Isabela had been about to sit on. "Cleaning, cleaning." She gave the chair another couple of furious wipes. "Clean!"

Isabela tried to lower herself into the chair.

"Wait!" Merrill said, with Isabela mid-squat.

She picked up an errant crumb from the seat.

"There's really no need to fuss over me," Isabela said, finally sinking down. "I'm used to being on a boat with forty men who think bathing is something that happens to other people."

"I don't have to but I want to. You're always fussing over me when I visit you. Anyway, it makes the rats easier to spot. They love the alienage. Once one family leaves, another from next door moves in."

"Can't you just magick them away?"

"With blood magic? No. That's cruel. And messy. Very messy. I'll just keep encouraging them out."

"With what? I don't see any traps."

"Harsh words mostly and a very stern look."

"Put some poison down for them. I know a few blends."

"No. They're small and fluffy and terrified enough already."

Isabela grinned. "So you're allowing vermin to share your house, eat your furniture and crap on your floors out of kinship?"

"The place does look a bit...nibbled, doesn't it? But they leave the eluvian alone and the company is nice."

"Company? Aren't you the belle of the alienage yet?"

"Pfft. Belle. I'm not even the belle of this house with you here."

"Nonsense. You're telling me not even one elfin pauper has tried to sweep you off your feet?"

"There was one but I started talking about the eluvian and he got scared. The others avoid me for the most part. I'm Dalish and I'm an apostate and-"

"And you spend all your time indoors obsessing over that mirror? Put on a pretty dress, go outside and you'll have your pick of men. If men's what you want."

"I've never really thought about it. What I want, I mean. Besides, I don't own any dresses. Not even ugly ones. I don't really, um," her eyes flicked to the cleavage bursting from Isabela's corset and she coloured beautifully. "Fill them."

Isabela hopped up and grabbed Merrill's arm. "Nonsense. I found an amazing dress shop right here in Lowtown. It mostly sells hats but dresses as well. And lace gloves. And gorgeous jewellery. It even has Antivan leather. The stuff reeks to high heaven but it's a good reek. 'Reminds me of good times."

"I can't."

"Bollocks you can't. The mirror can wait. The rats can wait. I'm treating you to a dress as pretty as you are. Right now." Isabela strongarmed her toward the door.

"But it'll get filthy!"

"That's the point of a good dress. No more arguing. We're going."

Isabela dragged Merrill out into the alienage courtyard where she had no choice but to stop fighting it. If you could call it a courtyard. Merrill squinted. Isabela knew she had been right. The only sunlight Merrill had seen for days would be any that happened to bounce off her pet mirror.

"Smile! You get stuff and it's the best kind of stuff. Free stuff."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Has no one ever bought you a gift before?"

"Hawke has."

Isabela chuckled. "I bet he has. He's tried to give me, Anders and Fenris a little something too. Or a big something. According to the rumours."

"He gave Fenris a sword. That was quite big."

"Merrill. What am I going to do with you?"

"Put me in a dress."

"That's right!"

Isabela took stock of her surroundings. It was only a short walk to the shop. "Her we are. It doesn't even have a sign. That's how you know there's good stuff inside." She pushed the door to the shop inward. An ever widening beam of sunlight spilled into it, catching the facets of jewels and melting into rich fabrics. A little bell jingled to announce their arrival. Solid silver, the part of her brain that had no scruples reminded her. Unique too, with a little bird-shaped clapper. The part that did have scruples asserted that she was here to make sure Merrill had a lovely time at the dress shop and felt like a princess.

"Isabela," the Antivan clerk said. "Still eyeing my merchandise in a way that makes me lock my valuables under the counter, I see."

"Still ruing the day you set up a fancy boutique in Lowtown?"

"Evidently. I see you've brought a friend."

"Yep. This is Merrill."

Merrill was looking around, awestruck, like a little girl in a doll shop. She reached her hand out to a little bouquet of garnets on a silken hat, then thought better of it and snatched it back.

"I feel like I'm making everything so grubby," Merrill said.

"Any marked items must be bought," the clerk said, without looking up.

"Oh hush you," Isabela said. "You don't want to alienate the first customer you've had in a decade."

"A customer now, are you? A gawker more like."

"I could say the same to you. I have eyes in my derriere. Today though, I am a customer. My friend would like a dress."

The clerk pointedly locked the till drawer and dropped the key around his neck. Silly boy. You could et money anywhere. She was far more likely to steal the saucy little sapphire brooch she'd been eyeing since she found the place.

"You're Dalish, aren't you?" the clerk said. "I thought you people never ventured into the cities."

"Nosy, nosy," Isabela said. "We're not paying you to ask questions."

"You're not paying me at all yet." The clerk passed between the wooden dummies. "What style would madam prefer?"

"Madam?" Merrill blinked.

"He means you," Isabela said.

"Oh. It's not really my area of expertise. I'm sure you know what suits me better than I do."

"Your companion is very agreeable, Isabela. You could learn a lot from her."

"Less talk-y, more dress-y."

The clerk took another long look at Merrill. A little too long. "Something fitted," he said. "Madam has an excellent figure."

Merrill shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, blushing, as the clerk shifted fabric with his hands. Dust rose up from some of the more settled garments. Eventually he withdrew a pale green dress. Ornate gold embroidery caught the light as it rippled over his forearms. "Would madam like to try it on?"

"Not with your tongue hanging out over her, she wouldn't," Isabela said. "Give it here and direct us to your fitting room."

The clerk forced a polite smile at her. "Through here."

He edged his way through another row of hats and led her to a small box room with a curtain over it. "Show me when you're ready," Isabela said. "No changing straight in and out."

Merrill took the dress and disappeared inside. Isabela picked up a few other things in Merrill's size. No shoes, of course. The Dalish never seemed to wear them. She purchased them at the counter, much to the clerk's surprise. Merrill took a little longer than necessary to change but when she did, Isabela's breath actually hitched.

Not only had she changed into the dress but she'd loosened her hair and ruffled it so it fell more softly around her face. The dress was fitted. Very, very fitted. Though a modest floor-length and not even low-cut, it clung to her breasts and hips in a way that hinted at the firmness underneath. The gold whirls seemed to lead the eye down each breast, across her flat belly, to the pit of her navel, travel along her tiny waist, across her round little hips, down her legs... Her bare toes wriggled under the hem.

Isabela forced her jaw to move and smiled. "Give me a twirl, kitten."

Merrill turned somewhat bashfully. The dress left her spine bare, settling in the hollow and smoothed over her arse. The skirts flowed with her, embroidery glittering. Merrill turned back, blushing. "It feels nice. Are you sure? I don't think I've ever owned anything this nice."

"If that's the case I'm doubly sure. You deserve nice things."

Merrill beamed and closed the curtain.

"I thought there were to be no tongues hanging out," the clerk said, with a grin.

*****

Isabela's room in the Hanged Man was basic but she'd barely ever spent time in her own bed. She didn't need fancy. She lay on top of the covers listening to the scrape of chairs and boozy songs from downstairs. The image of Merrill beaming in her dress kept swimming across her vision. Merrill who was cute and sweet and most importantly, a friend. Isabela dug her bare toes into the mattress and forced herself to think about other things. Like Fenris and oil, or Hawke, Fenris and oil, or Isabela with the oil applying it to Hawke and Fenris. Her oily hands stroking down Hawke's muscular chest. Or nuzzling into Varric's chest hair. Or spreading Aveline's strong thighs.

Or ripping expensive green material to find nothing but skin hyacinth-scented skin underneath.

Isabela sighed. That was the trouble with her. When she wanted something, she was damn persistent about it. The mere thought had moistened her thin black underwear. She stroked her forefinger over the dampness and 'mmm'ed at the sensation. She bit her lip hard and forced herself to sit.

Right. A bath. A very, very cold bath.

*****

Isabela was again sitting on the cleanest chair in the universe. Merrill was busily sweeping the floor with a broom that was looking ever more worn by the day. She was wearing green ribbons in her hair. The ones Isabela had bought her when she'd bought the dress. Isabela was fixated by them. They were twined and curled, holding her hair in a tight little bun with the ends trailing over her ears.

"I heard a phrase I didn't recognise today," Merrill said, conversationally. "I thought I'd picked up nearly all the Lowtown phrases."

"Oh?" Isabela said.

"Nuggling. What do you think that means? Is it like mugging? Hawke tells me that's bad."

It was a good job this conversation hadn't taken place in the Hanged Man or Isabela would have lost a drink to that. "Where did you hear that?"

"A group of boys in the alienage. They were talking about nuggling a human. Is it bad? Should I put a stop to it?"

Isabela gaped for a few minutes then laughed. "There are machines in Orzammar that work by getting two nugs to run really fast. They bounce up and down and bash against each other and the machine makes a whirring noise while they do it."

"So it's making two nugs run really fast? Where does the human come into it?"

"It's slang. Nuggling is when you put your face in a bosom and waggle it from side to side."

Merrill blushed brightly. "Waggle..." she mouthed.

"You're supposed to make the noise as well. Blubblubblubblub."

Merrill stared at Isabela's chest and then quickly turned her gaze to the ceiling. "Oh. That's not a common phrase then. No wonder I haven't heard it."

Isabela rose from the chair and closed the distance between herself and Merrill. She relieved her of the broom and let it fall back against the wall. "Do you want to try it?"

"Buh?"

Isabela plucked open the tie holding her top, so more cleavage spilled out. Merrill stared at it, quite transfixed. "I want you to," Isabela said. "Go on."

Merrill blinked. "Do I have to make the noise?"

Isabela paled. "No! You don't [i]have[/i] to do anything. I didn't mean- Crap. I'm not trying to force you-"

Merrill frowned for a few moments and then cracked a smile. She took a step toward Isabela and kissed the space between her breasts. The ends of her ribbons dangled across them. She raised her arms up and braced them around Isabela's neck, then lifted her face to hers. Isabela grabbed Merrill's thighs and pulled them up until Merrill locked her legs around her. Merrill's lips closed over hers. The kiss tasted like the lemon sweeties Merrill must have been snacking on, and the brandy Isabela had drunk earlier. Merrill was light. So easy to lift up and shove against the wall like so. She arched her back, pressing her body flush against Isabela's. She rubbed her pelvis gently against her and spilled low moans into Isabela's mouth.

Isabela broke the kiss, panting.

"Are you su-?" Isabela started.

"By the Dread Wolf, yes!"

"All right then."

Isabela carried her the few feet to the bedroom and tossed her on the bed. She descended on Merrill and hovered over her on all fours. She glanced over Merrill's armour, looking for the catches. Merrill was still flushed pink from the kiss, her lips slightly parted and staring up at Isabela with misty eyes. Isabela paused.

"Have you ever done this before?" she asked.

"Not with a woman," Merrill said. "Or a human."

Isabela smiled. That made things easier at least. She kneeled back on her haunches and pulled her dress over her head.

"Ooh, they're amazing," Merrill said, lifting up so that she could cup Isabela's breasts. "As full as the gibbous moon and heavy as two obese men's bellies after they've been eating gravy, like that poet said they'd be."

Isabela laughed again. "One of his better poems, that one."

"I've never had anyone write a poem about me. Not even my little toe."

"Don't look at me. All I know how to write is drinking songs and porn."

Speaking of which, Varric would enjoy the recounting of this particular tale. Isabela touched the pads of her fingers to the patch of bare skin showing at Merrill's underarm. Her breathing grew noticeably heavier. Isabela could feel heat curling in her own stomach as she realised how little of Merrill's skin she'd ever actually seen. She removed the plates and strapping from Merrill's armour, forcing herself not to rush. Not to tear it all off in one go. That done, she peeled off the clinging fabric underneath.

"Where did you get that?" she breathed.

Merrill's underclothes were rather unexpected. She was wearing a green corset. It was a simple thing, pale green and ruched at the chest, with little silver catches all down the front but it suited her.

"I, uh, I always wear things like this," Merrill said. The Keeper was a great beauty when she was younger. All of the older Dalish said so. "I always wanted to be exactly like her when I was a little girl. When I was about sixteen, I sneaked a look through her things and found a lot of things like this. She caught me peeking. I was mortified but she didn't tell me off, she gave me them. She said we were about the same size."

"Oh? Did she give you anything else?" Isabela's eyes sparkled as the scenario played out in her head. "The domineering older woman teaching her lovely young protégé everything she knows. Yes. I like that."

"That's not really-"

"Shhh. Let's not bore me with reality."

Isabela undid the first hook and eye fastening. Merrill was so slim there wasn't even the usual resistance you tended to get with corsets. Some of the more pampered Orlesian ladies Isabela had serviced wore them so tight they were bruised along their ribs. There was nothing like that with Merrill, Isabela thought as she revealed a little more, just perfect pale skin. She was flushed between her breasts. Isabela forced herself to remain patient and undo the last few catches before finally pulling the corset apart. Merrill lay back on the bed, legs crossed and forearm draped self-consciously over her chest.

"Is this-am I-?" Merrill pursed her lips for a few moments and forced herself to cohere. "Am I all right?"

"All right?" Isabela said, bemused. "No you're not all right, sweetie." Isabela lifted Merrill's arm away from her body.

Merrill looked like she was about to burst into tears for a few seconds but she composed herself. "Right then. I see."

"What have I told you about not assuming the worst? You're much better than all right, you're gorgeous and you have fantastic breasts." Isabela ran the flats of her hands over them. Merrill's nipples hardened to the touch. "And look at this flat little belly." Isabela ran her hands down that too. Merrill pressed into the touch. She parted her legs, drawing Isabela's eyes to the motion and shutting her mouth in one fell swoop. Isabela bent low over her and kissed the protrusion of her hipbone. Her nose dipped into Merrill's abdomen and she took a deep sniff. Merrill gave a small gasp. Isabela smiled into her skin, so close that Merrill could probably feel it. She brushed her lips along Merrill's pelvis and planted another kiss on the jut of her pubis, just above the brush of downy black hair.

Merrill snatched the headscarf from Isabela's hair and let it flutter from the bed. She delved her fingers into Isabela's hair and gripped the crown of her head so that she could push Isabela's face down as she lifted her hips up. Her nails clicked against Isabela's skull. Strands of hair tugged in the grip. Isabela grabbed the back of Merrill's thighs to support her and draped her legs over her shoulders.

"It seems like you want something," Isabela chuckled evilly. "Didn't your Keeper teach you to use your words?"

"Please?" Merrill managed. She shoved Isabela's head forward again.

That would have to do.

Isabela hooked a finger inside Merrill. Maker but she was tight. She clenched around it even before the first knuckle. Isabela made a small noise of awe. Merrill made a very large noise and twisted her upper body so she could bury her face in the sheets. Her nipples grew even harder, each standing erect. The flush on her chest darkened. Isabela didn't give her a chance to adjust before she pushed the whole finger inside her. Her own groin responded to Merrill's moan. Her panties already felt soaked. She crooked the finger, stroking Merrill in ticklish little come-hither motions. Teasing her until she was really wet. Merrill made constant, needy little sounds. Her heels tapped against Isabela's bare back as her legs trembled.

Isabela gave the hood of her clit the barest of touches with her tongue. Merrill made a keening noise so loud the whole alienage probably heard it. She practically arced off the bed and then sank again with a raw moan.

"More!" she insisted.

Isabela parted the hood with her tongue and rolled the tip across it until all she could feel was the smooth ball underneath. Merrill was muttering something in broken elvish. Something pretty and nonsensical. Isabela kept circling her clit and mercilessly thrusting into her with her finger. Merrill clamped even tighter around her. She clawed the mattress, twisting the sheets in her hands, her knuckles white. She half-screamed as she came. Isabela drew her head back and licked her lower lip. She eased her finger out of Merrill as the tension drained from her body with the last few trills.

Once she returned to lucidity, Merrill unhooked her legs from over Isabela's shoulder and rolled on top of her. She yanked down Isabela's knickers with about as much preamble as a Blooming Rose veteran and attacked Isabela with kisses. Their damp skin clung and parted as they moved against each other. Isabela clutched Merrill's cute little booty. She would have a few fingerprint-shaped bruises there by morning but judging by the dampness against Isabela's thigh, she didn't mind. Merrill caught Isabela's lower lip-piercing between her teeth and gave it a tug. Isabela gave her a little nip to the neck in return. A lovebite or two wouldn't hurt. Especially when Merrill had such a very biteable collarbone.

Isabela shoved Merrill onto her back again.

"Spread 'em," she said.

Merrill obliged, spreading her legs and drawing her knees up at the same time. Isabela shimmied down the bed and laced her legs inbetween Merrill's. She drew a little closer so that their groins met. Merrill watched her with a creased brow.

"What does-?" Isabela began to rock her hips. "Ohhhhh."

Ohhhh indeed. Isabela's strong thrust had knocked Merrill back against the headboard. She let her head flop back and bit her hand to catch her moans. She seemed to be in a place purely of instinct. Her hips pulsed slowly, in time with the pace Isabela was setting. Each stroke of clit against clit sent a jolt down Isabela's spine. She was neither as loud nor as sensitive but she could feel her own pleasure building. as Merrill's wetness mingled with her own. She 'mmm'ed as Merrill trailed her fingers over her stomach, sensitised to the touch. The delicate skin of Merrill's inner thighs passed over hers. Sweat stuck the ends of her hair to her lower back and breasts. Maker but Merrill looked totally ravaged too. Her ribbons had come undone and were dangling across her neck. Her eyes were half-lidded and lips swollen from kisses and bites.

Isabela upped her pace. She rubbed desperately against Merrill, eking out more cries until she wrenched another orgasm out of her. Isabela soon followed with a curse. She flopped back onto the bed.

"Ahh, I needed that," she said.

Merrill disentangled her legs from Isabela's and crawled her way down the bed to lie beside her. She rested her head against her chest. Isabela wrapped an arm around her and gave a contented sigh. She surveyed a particularly dark mark on Merrill's neck with satisfaction. Rule number one of pirating was to always stake your claim. She hoped someone asked about it. She hoped it was Aveline.

"I didn't do anything weird, did I?" Merrill said. "That was all supposed to happen, wasn't it?"

"All supposed to happen. You did very well, kitten. How are you feeling?"

"Like I'd like to do that again. If you'd like to. "

"Definitely."

Merrill curled into her and nuzzled into her chest. Isabela stroked her hair until she drifted off. Kitten was a very good nickname, she reflected.

 **End.** n


End file.
